


Lighting of a Fire

by dangerrx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangerrx/pseuds/dangerrx
Summary: Sam is hired to tutor Castiel, but he doesn't think Castiel needs Sam's help. Castiel sure doesn't want it. Warning for high school au cliches!





	1. Confidence

The boy has startling blue eyes, and isn’t that a cliché, Sam thinks. 

“I’m Sam,” he says, sticking out his hand. “Your mom hired me to be your tutor?”

The boy glances at Sam’s hand. He says, “Are you asking me?”

Sam’s hand drops, “Uh, no. I’m your tutor.”

The boy nods, “Come in.”

Sam enters the boy’s bedroom, shifting his backpack up his shoulder.

“Close the door behind you,” the boy says, not turning around as he leads Sam to the desk at the corner of the room.

The walls are covered with posters of bands Sam only knows about because of Dean. Not necessarily to Sam’s taste, but Sam doesn’t mind. There is a pile of clothes falling out of the open door of the boy’s closet and more clothes on and underneath the bed. On the desk is a closed laptop, notebooks, a copy of  _The Catcher in the Rye_ , and skin mags.

The boy catches Sam’s eye before taking the collection of porn and tossing it carelessly on the bed. He sits on the edge of the bed, on top of one of the magazines, and gestures to the chair.

“Sorry,” he says, and Sam catches the pink hue on the boy’s cheeks.

Sam sits, pulls out his own book and his binder of notes from his English class.

“So, I was thinking we can start with chapter one–well, obviously–and then—”

“Sam?” the boy interrupts.

“—we can–hmm?”

“I don’t need a tutor.”

“Uhm, but your mom…”

The boy rolls his eyes. Quietly, he says, “She’s my stepmom.”

Sam looks down at the boy’s copy of the book. It looks to be in great condition, certainly not as flipped through as the magazines Sam saw. The boy gets up from the bed, catching Sam’s attention. The boy’s eyes are on Sam as he crosses the short distance back to the desk. He leans over Sam to pull open a drawer. Underneath a false bottom, amongst other books, there’s a worn copy of  _The Catcher in the Rye_. The boy throws the book on the desk.

Sam frowns. According to the boy’s stepmom, the boy was failing English because he hadn’t been answering the teacher’s questions or turning in homework. Sam says as much.

The boy stands over him, says, “There’s no point in my answering questions if it means everyone else in the class doesn’t have to read. I’m not doing their work for them. And I don’t waste my time with homework. I already spend eight hours of my day in school.”

Sam can’t tamper down a smirk, so he ducks his head.

“Well,” Sam says. “Aren’t you worried about your GPA?”

“Nope,” the boy says, popping his lips.

Sam tries, “Your m—stepmom is paying me to get your grade up. I prefer earning my money rather than having it carelessly handed to me.”

That seems to hit a nerve with the boy, whose jaw tightens and eyes flash. They stare at each other for several tense moments. Sam is sure he’s going to go home with a bruise on his jaw. He studies the boy, notices a small stud earring of a wing on the boy’s left earlobe.

To Sam’s surprise, the boy smiles. He picks up his book and sits back on the bed.

“I’m Castiel,” the boy says. “Where do you want to start, teach’?”

Sam returns the smile. He opens his notes.

“Well, now that I know you’ve already read it before, what are your thoughts on Holden?”


	2. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel messes up a car and turns to Sam for help.

Sam has a habit he cannot shake of waking up early. He remembers being no older than four and waking up early enough to watch Mary get ready for work in her bathroom mirror. Even as a teen, he banters with Dean about watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. He’s the only one awake in the house, eating a breakfast of toaster-waffles, when the doorbell rings.

Looking out the peephole and recognizing the messy, brunette hair, Sam opens the door.

“Castiel? How do you know where I live?”

The stud on Castiel’s ear twinkles. He pushes inside, asks, “Your brother is a mechanic, right?”

He smirks, “Nice pajamas, teach’.”

Sam refuses to look down at the threadbare, faded pair of Marvin the Martian pajama pants that stop above Sam’s ankles. Sam crosses his arms as Castiel walks further inside the house.

“How do you know where I live?” Sam asks again.

“Naomi did a background check on you,” Castiel says distractedly, studying the living room. “When I told her I needed extra help, she gave me your address. Is this you?”

Castiel holds up a off-center picture of John and Mary with a baby between them. Sam pulls the frame from Castiel’s hand and places it back down on the living room shelf.

“What do you need a mechanic for?” Sam asks.

Castiel grins crookedly, “A friend and I went out last night. We weren’t so sober and hazarded a drive-thru. Scratched the side of the car. Didn’t get the food, we just took off.”

“What the hell, Castiel?” Sam hisses.

He looks over Castiel.

Castiel rolls his eyes, “Can your brother help me or not?”

“Stay here,” Sam says, walking down the hall. “And don’t touch anything else.”

As expected, Dean is less than agreeable with being awaken on his morning off. He grouches and grumbles and silently raises an eyebrow at Sam’s mention of Castiel. 

After reviewing the car, Dean says, “Look, I don’t know about getting you a discount since you’re only Sammy’s little lost lamb, but take it in any time after two and before eight, and I’ll help you. I’m going to see if I can squeeze in another hour of sleep before I have to get ready for work. Good night.”

Sam looks over the side of the car, its gleaming red paint chipped all along the driver’s side.

“I was lying.”

Sam turns to Castiel, who he finds watching him.

“What?”

Castiel nods to the car, “I was lying about drinking. My friend is just a shit driver.”

Sam mulls this over.

Castiel brushes past Sam to open the car door. With one foot in the car, he says, “I just thought it’d piss you off.”

Castiel gets inside and, before closing the door, says, “Looks like I was right." 

Sam purses his lips, watches as Castiel carefully pulls out of the short driveway and continues on down the street. Sam returns inside to Dean lounging on the sofa and eating Sam’s waffles.

"That kid is weird, Sammy,” Dean says, mouth full.

Dean brings his legs in before Sam drops himself down at the end of the couch.

“Yeah, but he’s smart.”

“And he’s not ugly,” Dean hedges.

“No, he’s not,” Sam agrees.

The two continue watching TV together until Dean has to prepare for work. He tussles Sam’s hair as he walks by. Sam ignores him, concentrating on mindless cartoons. He considers the binder of notes he left with Castiel, the one he saw sitting in Castiel’s car. The thought is fleeting, and as an episode of “Animaniacs” begins, Sam settles in his seat.


	3. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gives his favorite teacher a Christmas present.

Whether they like him or not, everyone who knows Sam will at times refer to him as “Moose.” It’s a nickname he’s had since he was the first one in Miss Gambler’s sixth grade homeroom class to gain stature.

“I would’ve passed if  _Moose_  over here didn’t screw up the curve,” Dirk says as class lets out.

He bumps his shoulder against Sam’s, but Sam doesn’t flinch.

“Hey!”

Sam and Dirk turn. Despite all the kids in the hall, Sam can make out Castiel, leaning coolly against the lockers. He wears a faded black shirt with the word “Jesus” made out to look like the AC/DC logo. Somewhere in Castiel’s backpack, Sam knows he’ll find Castiel’s earring. Sam wants to roll his eyes at the display, but his urge to smile wins out.

“If you have a problem with Sam, I suggest you take it up with me,” Castiel says.

Dirk steps up to Castiel until the two are a hair’s breadth away.

“What? You’re gonna pay to have me expelled or something?” Dirk asks, punctuating his sentence with a jab to Castiel’s shoulder with his finger.

“Yeah. Maybe you can get a head start on your job cleaning my toilets,” Castiel says.

“Cas,” Sam says sharply.

“Whatever,” Dirk grunts before turning around and walking away. 

As the crowd dwindles, Sam approaches Castiel.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sam protests.

“That kid is a jerk,” Castiel says. “In any case, I got you something.”

Sam looks around, “Where is it?”

Castiel holds up his car keys. He waits for Sam to put away books in his locker. Sam takes out his SAT prep books and a Stephen King novel he checked out from the library.

“There is very little reception at the cabin,” Castiel says as he leads Sam to his car.

They walk together, their fingers brushing occasionally, but Sam is content with saying nothing if it means watching Castiel duck his head at the contact.

“I won’t be able to help you with your study guides. And I can’t call you on Christmas or New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s okay,” Sam says. “You still got me a present, right?”

“Yes, Deer,” Castiel smirks, opening up the trunk to his car.

There are two presents in Castiel’s otherwise-empty trunk, the larger wrapped, paper tight at the corners and ostentatious bows atop. The other has lopsided ends with an excess of tape. Castiel hands over the large one.

Sam plays with the ribbon until Castiel huffs playfully, “Sometime before next year, teach’.”

 Sam tears at the wrapper, throws the trash in Castiel’s trunk.

Castiel gets up on his toes for a moment to watch as Sam opens the box underneath the wrapper to a copy of “The Divine Comedy,” felt hardcover and pages shining gold. Sam glides his fingertips over the material of the cover, glances up to catch Castiel looking at him.

“Thank you, Cas,” Sam breathes out.

“It’s no trouble,” Castiel says, already handing Sam the second package.

Sam laughs, setting down the book and slipping a finger through the tape of the gift.

A smile in his voice, Castiel says, “Naomi didn’t like my wrapping. She took Dante to the mall and had it professionally wrapped. Luckily she didn’t find this one. I do not think she would approve of my giving it to you.”

The other gift, when Sam tears the paper back, is a paperback of “Paradise Lost.” The book is battered, the edges of the pages frayed and dark with age and skin oils. There’s clear tape keeping the cover attached to the rest of the book. When Sam opens it, the book is filled with whole passages highlighted and underlined. Included in the margins are notes and unanswered questions.

“Cas, this is…”

Sam glides his fingers across the notes. Sam inhales a deep breath and pulls Castiel to him. He holds the book tight and Castiel tighter, in an embrace. Castiel brings his arms up and holds Sam.

“Merry Christmas, Deer,” Castiel whispers.


End file.
